XEdie: Your boy was on my territory!Murdoch: And you on mine. We even.Edie: Even, old man? I count three to your one. A smart man'd mind the odds and back the fuck off, 'cause I ain't done here. Somebody need learnin' on not pushin' me.Murdoch: One that you see.Edie: ... what?Murdoch: A smart woman might think of countin' windows sometimes. But smarts never was your strong point, eh, Edie? Go home.Edie: You can't order me around --Murdoch: The hell I can't. You coulda saved face if you left when I let you say Baptiste was your territory. Now you just gonna leave.Edie: And if I don't? What makes you so damn sure you gonna win?Murdoch: Nobody wins a fight. Do this for five years, an' you learn that much. Nobody wins. But believe me, little girl... I can make you lose.

Since my husband actually asked me about this, the reason everyone keeps calling Murdoch 'old man' has little to do with his age (though at twenty-three he is slightly older than most of the gang types); it's because he's been a tÍtÍ for five years. This is about five times what most manage.

I have a houseguest for the next week, and I'm already behind on life, but I promise I'll get around to doing some more stuff here soon. Including responding to comments in a more timely manner, dammit! Darn real life.

Holden's ship is destroyed when it answers a faked distress call; Miller's career is destroyed by the search for a missing girl. Each has one end, but neither understands how deep and treacherous a mystery lies in the middle.